The Dark One
by Purplefluffychainsaw
Summary: The Dark One is dead, but now her son has been brought to Redwall. Will he be able to deny his past and prove to Skipper that he is not the same as his mother? Revised and ready for more action.
1. Chapter One

The Dark One _Revised_

**Summary**: The Dark One is dead, but now her son has been brought to Redwall. Will he be able to deny his past and prove to Skipper that he is not the same as his mother?

**Rating**: Something around T I expect, due to my foul mouth and lots of lovely violence. Can't have Redwall without a hoard of some sorts, and can't have a hoard without violence.

**Disclaimer**: I own _nothing_ except that which is my own. You'll know what's mine, trust me: it's mainly the characters that are batshit insane (ie, most of them). The wonderful Redwall, series and all of the characters and ideas that it spawns belong to Brian Jacques and I'm getting no money out of this.

**Author's Note**: Ahah. Well. You see, I discovered roleplaying. And gained a life some how (I'm still struggling to get over that one). But on the plus side, I passed my English ALevel, and a creative writing course, sort-of fell back in with the PPC and failed at my one and only chance of having a Real Life. I've more-or-less rewritten the first chapter, and will be adjusting following ones, before continuing. As long as I work out how to work the Pit again. Although, if you're reading this, assume I managed it. Also, have no beta. Need beta. Too lazy to look myself. Feel free to offer, especially if you'll also kick me in the tail to keep writing.

**Additional A/N: **You'll have to excuse the amount of scene changes in this chapter. Prologue and all that. I also nicked a line from a Nirvana song. Kurt Cobain is love, but I would have changed it, I just didn't have the heart to. Therefore, _Drain You_ isn't mine either.

~Ela

_Chapter one_

A young otter stood by the handmade and somewhat battered bed, her paws on her slender hips, and a look of pure exasperation on her fair face. Sunrise had been and gone, and yet her younger sister was still lazing away in bed, when she knew perfectly well that there were chores to be done. Stamping her footpaw, Rowena growled at the sleepy otter, trying to get her attention. "Kira! Get out of bed." The smaller, stockier otter ignored her sister and rolled over, pretending to be asleep. She faked a few snores to add to the effect, but it didn't fool Rowena. "I'm going to count to five." She warned, claws curling into the rough material of her tattered smock.

"Ha, if you can count that far." Kira's voice came from under her blanket; ruining what little chance she had of faking sleep.

"One . . . Two . . . Three . . . Hurry up Kira, four . . . five. Right, that's it." Rowena grabbed the edge of her sister's blanket and pulled, hard. Kira came flying out, tumbling to the floor and rolling twice until she hit the wall. Sitting up, she rubbed her head, glaring at her sister with the brown eyes that both girls had inherited from their father.

"You could have told me there was a wall there." Kira pouted, as she pushed herself up, brushing off the dust from the floor.

"You should have been out of bed an hour ago." Rowena snipped back, as she walked off. "Get dressed before breakfast, and for goodness sake, wash your face." Rowena took great pride in her looks, waking early to wash, and taking good care of her clothes, but Kira had little care for such trivialities. She didn't even attempt to put any effort in that morning, pulling on a pair of shorts under the tunic that she had been wearing the day and night before, and splashing her face in the stream at the holt's entrance.

"So where's the food?" Kira demanded, sitting down at the table that showed the same signs of hard wear as the rest of their little home. With a sigh, Rowena put fresh baked oat farls, damson preserve and some water on the table, and Kira gobbled three, and then started to bounce away from the table.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Rowena asked, still on her first farl. Kira stuck her tongue out, and then dived out of the small dwelling.

Kira dived into the stream, with hardly a splash, and all the fish bolted, Kira rushing after them. She twisted in and out of the weeds with amazing accuracy, keeping up with the fish perfectly. Finally Kira broke the surface and took a deep breath. She had managed to go a surprising way downstream, carried half by the current and half by her own enthusiasm. Looking around her she noticed some mushrooms on the bank.

//_Perfect, lunch! _//

Forgetting that she had only eaten breakfast a short while ago Kira launched herself from the stream and started to gulp down the mushrooms.

* ~ *

The girls had been living by themselves for a season, ever since their parents had left one day, only to never return. Rowena, as both the eldest, and the more sensible of the pair had tried desperately to keep up with her sister's wild moods and silly attitude, but her patience had snapped.

Rowena took a haversack from the shelf and stuffed it full of all her possessions. She was doing what she should have done a season ago – leaving. She had finally given up on her younger sister. Nothing she did seemed to make the smallest bit of difference. Opening a small cupboard at the back of the holt, she took out half of the food that was in there, leaving Kira just enough for a week. If she wanted any more then she'd just have to go looking, lazy creature. Rowena took a cloak from the side of her bed, and the knife. Certain that she had everything that she would need she left.

* ~ *

Kira arrived back at the cave just as the stars began to show outside, hungry, wet and cold. She'd been playing in the sream all day and had let the current carry her further than she'd expected (or had ever been before), and so it had taken her a long time to get back to their little home. "Rowena?" Nothing. "Rowena! I come bearing . . . umm . . . food?" Still nothing. Kira walked into the cave, her dark fur leaving tiny puddles of steam water between her paw prints. "Rowena, you in here? Ro, this isn't funny." She went to the fireplace at the back of the small cave and lit the fire. As the flickering flames brought light to the room she scoured it. Nope. No Rowena. Kira shrugged and went to the food cupboard. Realising it was half empty she realised that Rowena had left – something that she had threatened to do a few times before. "I'm better on my own anyway!" Kira yelled to the air, stamping her food in anger, childishly. "I don't need no one, and obviously no one needs me!"

"_Me. . . Me. . . e . . ._"

"I didn't like you anyway! I can do what I like now."

"_Now . . . now . . . ow . . ._"

"I hope you rot in the dark forest, you . . . you slack-furred, baggy-nosed fish daughter!"

"_Fish daughter . . . fish daughter . . . ish daughter . . ._" Kira did almost the strangest thing that she could do in the circumstances. She began to laugh. The strange sound echoed worse than her yells. Above her birds startled from their roosts and went fluttering up to the sky at the eerie sound.

* ~ *

Kira woke late the next morning. She had fallen asleep by the fire, which had burnt itself out. Kira had spent the last night planning what she was going to do now. She thought that there was nothing tying her to the holt where she had been brought up. She was going to leave it. Kira packed her haversack the same way that her sister had done the day before, ransacking her old home. She took her father's old sword from above the fire, even though she hardly knew how to use it. Finally she was satisfied, and she left, crossing over the stream that backed the holt, and going into the woods further on. A new chapter of her life had begun.

* ~ *

A week later, maybe more, Rowena returned. She had another otter with her. His name was Rock, and it was a good name. He was as solid as a rock, and just about as clever as one. However, he was good looking, and Rowena had taken to him as a duck to water.

"I'll check if she's in there." She said to her boyfriend, leaving him on the bank.

It was about an hour later that Rock gave up waiting and wondered into the small holt. The vermin gang that had taken over the place killed him almost as easily as they had killed Rowena.

* ~ *

"_And so I'll wander along_

_On this little plain_

_And I'll sing my song_

_And I won't complain..._"

"Hurr, et looks more loik a wudd to oi." Kira swung round to greet the mole.

"I guess. It's just a silly song anyway."

"So oi gavererd. Do ee be hungered, miz?"

"Hmm? Food? Nah, I'm starving myself on purpose to make myself look beautiful. 'Course I'm hungered. I'm starving!"

The mole chuckled to his self. "Oi thought as much. Come on." He turned round and ambled into the tunnel entrance he had been standing by. Kira followed him, smiling softly to herself. The mole's dwelling was a small cavern, the roof held up by the tree roots of the forest above. The mole, whose name was Eben, lived there with his twin grandchildren, Burr and Burrum. Kira was pushed onto a ledge while the three moles rushed around finishing off the food. Eben had cooked a large deeper 'n' ever turnip 'n' tater 'n' carrot pie, which, needless to say, was delicious. Kira gulped down her share with relish, Burr muttering to his sister: "Oi'd rather keep that 'un for a week 'n a year." Burrum chuckled back, and Kira started on a third bowl, complimenting her hosts through a full mouth.

* ~ *

It was pitch black outside. There wasn't even a small sliver of the moon to be seen, and even if there had been it would have been covered by the thick clouds that obscured the stars. Kira didn't mind though, in fact she liked the dark. It made a great cover. She slung her newly filled haversack over one shoulder as she left the mole dwelling, chuckling quietly to herself. They had fallen hook, line and sinker. Not only had Kira robbed them of most of their possessions of worth (not much), and all their food and drink, the satisfying crunch that Eben's neck had made when she smacked his head against the rock made her think that she had slain at least one of them. They should be grateful it had only been one. She could have killed them all, dozy moles!

Kira had found a more interesting way of attaining food then scavenging for it. She was quite happy to rob other creatures. A family of voles, two hedgehogs and the moles were her total sum of victims so far. She made her way a little way out to where she had hidden her bow, and her new sword, which was much better than her fathers old rusty one, humming a little song to herself.

"_It is now my duty to completely drain you . . ._" Kira's song was scarily morbid.

* ~ *

It had only been a couple of seasons, yet already Kira was a beast of legend. "Be good, or the Dark One will get you . . ." "If you don't eat your greens I'll tell the Dark One of you . . ." "Oh, for the Dark One's sake!"

"Have you heard of the Dark One?"

"The Dark One? Can't say as I have, matey."

"Well, they say she's an otter, like you, but her fur is as black as the night sky, and. . ."

"I heard that she was a ferret."

"No, she's an otter, my friend saw her!"

"She's a ferret, my friend told me so, and. . ."

"Yeah, but what's so special about 'er?"

"She comes at night, and slays every beast that stands in her path."

"No, she comes in the day, and she looks like a normal otter, and then people take her into their homes, and at night . . ." He drew a paw across his neck.

"Wow . . ."

Everywhere otters, especially female ones, found it hard to get aid from others, where as before they were often welcomed into homes when in need. Those that did not know them treated them with suspicion, and some times they were even attacked. In the Southlands everyone dreaded the Dark One. Yet, she still struck everywhere, leaving death and destruction in her wake.

* ~ *

Kira chuckled as she went through the belongings of the otter family she had just slain. Although it was more difficult to get into the homes of other species now, otters seemed not to learn. Kira had slain the entire family, all seven of them, and now all she wanted was a good meal. She kicked the dead otter maid that lay at her feet. She was about the same age as Kira, maybe a season older. But she still had a family, happiness. Or at least used to have.

That was when she heard it. A small mewing noise came from a small cradle at the side of the chamber. How had she forgotten the baby? Kira drew her dagger from its sheath and moved swiftly over to the cradle. As she stood there, debating whether to leave him to the fast approaching winter or slay him now, he smiled up at her, not noticing the blood of his family on her paws. Kira laughed at his innocence and moved her paws to pick him up. The child growled at her and snapped at her fingers. She laughed harder. Kira gave the otter kit the handle of her dagger. To her amazement the babe held in the right way. She saw a spark light in the youngster's eyes as he held the knife.

"Hello, Bran." Kira said, softly, taking the knife off the kit, which fought as well as it could to keep the weapon. "Come on, you're coming on a little journey with me . . ."

The babe, Bran, had switched something in Kira's brain, softening her, but not enough to finish robbing the babe's family before she left with him in a sling across her front.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter two_

Ten seasons passed, much too quickly for Kira's liking. She felt old. Bran grew up too fast in her opinion, and although she was not his mother he seemed to have the same rebelling spirit. His fur was as dark as Kira's name, and his eyes were a deep green, like his birth mother's. Kira had told him nothing of where he came from, but Bran had never seen her love anyone, and had no doubt that she was not his mother. Bran wore a short green tunic, tightened round his waist by a long cord, to which was attached his dirk. He also carried a bow and quiver full of mismatched arrows across his back. Kira had also grown, though not as much. A little of her mother's beauty now shone through her face, but it was perverted, and somehow Kira managed to make it dark and evil. She was still quite young, but some of her fur was starting to go grey in places.

Bran was lying on his back in the little glade, watching the birds idly as Kira lit a fire to cook an afternoon meal on. The first they knew about the approaching otters was the birds, as they fled their roosts into the darkening sky. Skipper of otters, and two of his closest friends wandered into the clearing, carrying heavy haversacks, which Bran eyed hopefully, even though his own was still full from the last 'trip', as his mother had started to call them. Kira bowed low, in her own strange way, never having being taught how to curtsy.

"Hello, sir. My name is Kira Deepstream, and this is my son, Bran. Will you stay with us for the evening meal?" She missed the glance between Skipper's companions, her focus on Skipper.

"Sure, miss. My name's Skipper, an' these are my mates Alfwine and Alvin." He bent a little closer to Kira and whispered loudly, "They're twins, as you can see, but the best way to tell 'em apart is to pull their rudders. Alvin squeals like a girl." One of the pair grinned, and the other pulled a face. Bran heard Skipper quite easily and decided to try it out. He moved silently from where he had been lying and pulled both rudders sharply. Sure to Skipper's word one of them gave out a girlish squeak, much to Bran's amusement.

"Watch it, little 'un, or I'll pull yore rudder, and we'll see how you like that!" Alvin laughed, both twins turning round to face the younger otter.

"Hey, watch who you're calling little one!" Bran had picked up his mother's more formal speech. He stood up, and sure enough he was taller then Alvin and Alfwine, but not Skipper.

"Ohh, be careful, Alvin, we've got a tough 'un here, no doubts. But I wonder if . . ." Alfwine jumped on the younger otter, and started to tickle him. "He's tougher then us? Looks like not!" Bran rolled around on the floor, trying to escape Alfwine and Alvin, laughing so hard his ribs ached. When eventually the twins let him loose his fur was coated in the soft, dry earth that made up the floor of the glade, turning his fur pale.

"Eek! He's a ghost!" Alvin gave out another of his girlish squeaks, playfully this time, and leaped behind his bother, and all three of them had another laughing fit.

"Oh, how am I meant to deal with these two?" Skipper asked Kira, rolling his eyes and dragging Alfwine out of the heap by his rudder. "Look at ye, yore as bad as the young 'un." Past Skipper and Alfwine, Bran gave his mother a look. She nodded slightly, while stirring the pot she had set over the fire. Unknown to them Alvin saw the look that they shared, though he kept it to himself for the moment. Alfwine grabbed Skipper's rudder, and Skipper let out a squeak even higher pitched then Alvin's.

"An' who has the best squeak of us all?" Asked Alvin through giggles.

"Well, we ain't tried Bran yet, have we, mates?" Skipper pointed out.

"Oh no, you don't! You have to catch me first!" Still trying to recover from his laughing fit Bran leapt up and ran from the other three, who quickly started to pursue him, all four of them laughing fit to burst.

"Oh, all four of you are like big babies!" Laughed Kira. "If you want something to eat, you'd better calm down, because I'm not dealing with you in such a state." Immediately Bran sat down, panting, and Skipper, Alvin and Alfwine all fell over him.

"I'm . . . calm." Bran said, taking a huge gulp of air to stop his laughing, as Skipper, Alvin and Alfwine picked themselves up.

"Smells lovely." Alvin said, sniffing the air appreciatively.

"Mmm. . . Wot is it?" Alfwine asked, sitting down next to his twin.

"Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup, can't ye tell?" Skipper asked, sitting down next to Alfwine, so all four of them were sitting in a line in front of Kira, who gave a little laugh.

"You look like little otter kits waiting for a meal, apart from not little, all sitting in a line like that."

"Well, waiting for a meal sounds good, and if I have to look like a babe, then so be it." Bran said, licking his lips. "You haven't made Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup for ages."

"Get bowls, Bran." Kira commanded.

"Yes, ma'am." Bran retorted, falling back to his sarcastic lazy self, though he went to get them. Silence filled the little camp as the five otters ate. When finally his hunger had been satisfied Skipper put his bowl to one side and lent back.

"Well, Kira, that were the best Shrimp 'n' hotroot soup I've had for many a year. The least me an' my mates can do to repay you is go an' wash the dishes. C'mon Alvin, Alfwine." The three guests gathered the dished and made their way down to the small stream that flowed a little way from the camp.

"Are ye sure that it's them, matey?" Alfwine asked Skipper. Skipper looked at him, his face grave.

"Sure as can be. Didn't you see Iris's ring on that scum's paw?"

"Aye, I saw it, Skipper." Alvin nodded.

"Wot about Bran? He might not have had anything to do with yore sister's death."

"No, they're both in it together. You didn't see the looks they gave each other earlier on. Though . . ." Alfwine stopped.

"Though?" Skipper asked.

"He is little more then a kit. Mayhaps. . . mayhaps he could be taught otherwise?"

"Maybe . . ." Skipper said, slowly.

"If we stick to the original plan, and he ain't involved, then we could just leave him be. Or take him to Redwall? They'll be good to him."

"Aye. Stick to the original plan." Skipper nodded, as he stacked the clean plates.

Meanwhile in the camp, a similar talk was going on.

"Tonight, Bran. We'll ask them to stay tonight, and then, when the moon is high."

"Sure, Kira." Bran said, lying back in his favourite position, looking up to the sky. "But there's something different about them. They're warriors, not housewives an' babes."

"They have no weapons."

"An' what does that mean? I could easily fight and kill somebeast with no weapons."

"Aye, sure you could, kit."

"I'm not a babe any more, Mother." The heavy sarcasm in Bran's voice as he said the last word shut Kira up. Had he realised? She had never had the will to admit that he was not her son by birth. Skipper and the twins came back in, yawning heavily, and carrying the clean dishes.

"Thank you, Skipper. You look tired. Do you want to stay here for the night? We have no proper dwelling, but it will be safer then alone."

"Aye, thank 'ee, Kira, that would be good." Alvin nodded silently behind Skipper, but Alfwine did nothing. Trying to lighten the heavy air that seemed to be drowning the little camp Bran reached for his blanket.

"Well, I call this blanket, don't wake me unless there's an emergency. In fact, don't wake me at all." He curled up in the blanket and started to snore almost immediately. The other four followed suit, though they were a little slower to sleep.

It was about midnight when Bran was woken by the sounds of Kira padding round the camp. She was almost silent, but it was enough to wake Bran who had only been sleeping lightly. He turned over, and saw the flash of his mother's sword in the firelight. He started to stand up, but was grabbed from behind, a dark paw covering his mouth.

"Sorry, Bran, but I think yore innocent, and if'n you go to 'er then Skipper will kill you too." Alfwine whispered. Bran struggled in vain, the older otter was a lot stronger, and he moved silently and skilfully back into the shadows. Bran watched as Kira crept over the still lump which was Skipper, and her sword flashed again as she brought it down on him. But a small dagger blocked the sword, and quickly Skipper was up, fighting furiously with the smaller otter. Kira took the upper hand quickly, but her pride was her undoing. As she pushed Skipper further and further back he suddenly ducked, and slashed at her footpaws. Kira skipped out of the way, but not quickly enough and Skipper dug his blade deep into her leg. Kira took advantage of Skipper's blade being used to bring her sword down across his back, but as she did so Skipper moved, so her sword came heavily down on bare earth.

Bran didn't see the next part of the fight, as he bit down hard on Alfwine's paw. Alfwine yelped and let go automatically, realising his mistake to late. Bran twisted in his grasp and hit him hard on the side of the head, knocking him out for a few moments. But he had forgotten about the second of the otter twins. A knife skidded along his side, causing Bran to hiss softly in pain. Alvin drew his dagger back swiftly and pounced on Bran, pressing his arms to his side, preventing him from drawing his dirk. Alfwine quickly regained consciousness, and tugged the younger otter's dirk from his belt.

"Hold him." He said quietly to his twin, so as not to disturb Skipper. Bran managed to duck the first blow, but Alvin caught his head, trapping him so that Alfwine could use the handle of the dirk to knock him out.

As soon as Alfwine and Alvin were sure that Bran was unconscious they let go of him, laying him on the ground before turning round to watch Skipper and Kira. Kira had Skipper on the floor, and he had lost his blade. As she slammed the sword into the earth he moved, though not quick enough to miss the blade. It sliced into his side, and Alfwine stood up to help his friend.

"No" Alvin whispered. "It was only a clip to 'is side, and it's Skipper's revenge. We said that we wouldn't get in the way of it."

"Skipper hasn't got a weapon though." But even as Alfwine spoke Skipper rolled to where his knife had fallen, and picking it up he leapt to his feet, and dealt Kira a swift blow to the head. Kira was caught off guard by his sudden movement, but brought her sword up to jab it into the otter chieftain's side. Skipper parried the movement with his knife, but the tremor from the force of Kira's sword sent shock waves up Skipper's arm. He knew that he would get nowhere with his knife.

It was Alvin who moved this time; he grabbed the dirk where they'd let it fall beside Bran and tossed it to Skipper, calling his name. Skipper caught the dirk in his right paw, and at the same time slashed at Kira's stomach with his knife. Kira blocked the knife, but could not also block the dirk when it moved to her throat. She had to decide whether to protect her stomach or her throat, and it took her too long. Skipper drew the dirk across her throat. Kira managed to bring her sword heavily down upon Skipper's shoulder before she dropped to the ground, dead.


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter three_

Bran came to slowly. His head ached from the after affects of the blow to his head, his side was throbbing and his paws and footpaws were bound. It took him a little while to work out what had happened. Bran opened his eyes, then shut them again, the bright light of the fire hurting them. He waited a moment then opened them again. Looking around with his eyes half shut against the glare of the fire he saw Alvin bandaging Skipper's shoulder. Alfwine appeared from the woods, dusting of his paws. He gave Skipper something, picked up some bandages and came over to Bran. Bran automatically rolled away from Alfwine, onto his injured side. He took a sharp breath in, trying not to scream.

"It's okay, Bran, matey. I'm not goin' to hurt ye."

"This time?" Bran said darkly, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"Aye, this time. But last time 'twas for yore own good."

"Doesn't feel like that."

"Stay still while I bandage yore side." Bran sat up so that Alfwine could get to his wound better, giving in to common sense. Alvin's dagger had gone in quite deep, but luckily had not hit anything vital. Alfwine swiftly wrapped the bandage round Bran's side, tying it off neatly. Bran couldn't help but wince at the pressure that was put on his side. "If I untie you will ye try to escape?" Alfwine asked.

"You have my word. If you can trust it." Alfwine said nothing, but untied the ropes that were binding Bran. "Where's Kira?"

"Dead." Said Skipper, walking over, Alvin behind him. "Yore mother's dead."

"Oh."

"You might as well sleep; we've got a long walk tomorrow." Skipper turned away from Bran.

"You killed her, didn't you?"

"Yes, as she killed Iris. Kira Darkone killed countless 'elpless beasts, as she tried to kill me." Skipper looked back at Bran. "She deserved death, as did any that helped 'er." The younger otter said nothing, and for a while they stared deep into each other's eyes, as if trying to look into each other's souls. Finally Alvin yawned, breaking the tension.

"Well, I'm off to have a nap, wake me at dawn." He wondered off, followed by his twin. Skipper looked at Bran for one final, piercing moment, before following them. As he did so Bran whispered under his breath:

"I _will_ have revenge…"

* ~ *

Skipper woke before the dawn, even though he had not slept for more then a couple of hours. He rekindled the embers of the fire and sat down beside them, silent in his contemplation. As the birds began their chorus Alvin woke, and with a couple of seconds of his brother's waking so did Alfwine. They started to cook breakfast for their chieftain, though they didn't talk.

"I don't think we should take Bran to Redwall." Skipper said, breaking the silence.

"Why not, Skip? He's done naught wrong that we know of."

"I don't believe that he'd travelled with Kira and not killed. I worry what he'd do to Redwall."

Alfwine was worried too, by the formality of Skipper's voice. "Innocent until proven guilty, mate. Let 'im be. Anyways, he's an otter. He's not evil, deep down."

Skipper sighed, and a great weight seemed to lie on him. "I guess . . . We'll stay at Redwall for a while. Keep an eye on him." Alvin and Alfwine barely managed to contain their joy at this.

"What . . . what about the others. Somebeast should tell 'em what we're doin'." Alfwine punched his twin, only mock seriously.

"They'll be okay, Tarrega will look after them." Skipper grinned, falling back into his normal self. "Or I could always send you two back to tell 'em where we're goin'."

"Skipper's right, Alvin." Alfwine said, through clenched teeth. "They'll be fine. We don't need to tell them we're not goin' to be back for a while cos they don't expect us back for a while. So. Stop. Askin'. Stupid. Questions!"

Alvin stuck his tongue out at Alfwine as he passed Skipper a plate of food. "I'll wake Bran then."

* ~ *

The four otters left the camp, past a newly raised heap of earth. Bran didn't need to ask; he knew that was where Kira lay. He had not been told where they were going, but he was not tied up. Bran's weapons had been taken away, and he felt uncomfortable and naked without them, having carried them since he was little more than a babe. He had noticed the ring that Kira had taken during on of their latest trips glittering on Skipper's finger and had no doubts that those that they had killed then, the otterwife and her babe, had been close to Skipper. Bran was not tied up. It was almost as if Skipper wanted him to run away, as if he didn't want Bran to come to where ever he was being led. But for the moment Bran was happy to follow. It was, after all, what he had always done.

* ~ *

"_The day has hardly even begun, and yet here I am at my desk. That rascal Telkes woke me before the birds started to sing! It is the last time I let him sleep in the gatehouse. He is probably excited about the season ending, bless him. Myself, I would rather stay in summer then move into autumn, though I think my favourite season of all must be spring. But never mind, I cannot stop the seasons from running! Abbess Linda and I are the eldest beasts in the whole of Redwall now, since old Esyka died. We were the last three who could remember Loki, Denya the Warrior's son. Loki didn't take after his father though! Oh no, if I remember rightly then he was worse for making mischief then any I know, except perhaps those otters, Alvin and Alfwine. Even when he was as old as I am now, the only way I ever knew him he was like that. Skipper is his son. I wonder when Skipper will visit again? He normally winters with us at least, but he didn't come last winter. Tarrega said that he was visiting his sister. But what am I thinking about the past for? The past is past, and I have more then enough to be doing now. With autumn on our doorste . . ._"

_From the journal of Tymp the recorder, during the summer of the oak. _

Rufus burst into the gatehouse, interrupting Tymp and waking Will.

"Will, Tymp! Skipper is coming, I saw him on the path! Wake up, Will!"

"Rufus?" Will asked sleepily, turning over to look blearily at his mouse friend.

"Skipper has come to visit, with Alvin and Alfwine, and another one of his otters! Come on, wake up!" Tymp laughed at the amount of energy that Rufus had.

"I think Will is up now, with the rest of the abbey. Come, help me to hobble down to the abbey so we can tell the abbess of our visitors." Tymp said, putting away his writing materials. Rufus did as he was asked, though when it became obvious that he could not stand the slow pace of the old squirrel Tymp sent him ahead. Rufus immediately went tearing off into the abbey.

* ~ *

It was three days before they arrived at Redwall, even though they walked through the night on the third day, knowing they were near. Skipper, Alvin and Alfwine were travel worn and weary, but the journey seemed to have done nothing to Bran. He had spoken little during the last three days, even though Alvin and Alfwine had tried to lighten the mood. Skipper also had been uncharacteristically silent and brooding, neither eating nor sleeping much.

"Well, 'ere we are, mates. Redwall abbey."

"Think of the food . . ."

"The drink . . ."

"The fun . . ."

"The feasts . . ."

"Miz Lisana, eh, Alfwine?" Alfwine nodded, not paying attention to the line. He suddenly realised what had been said.

"No! Well, miz Lisana is nice, an' . . ."

"An'?"

"An' nothin'"

"An' somethin'. Go on, Alfy!"

"Shut up, Alvin."

"Make me . . ." In a flash Alfwine had jumped on his brother, and they rolled around in the dirt mock fighting. Skipper sighed, stepped over them and knocked on the door. A young hedgehog opened it immediately.

"Took your time knocking, mister Skipper. I've been waitin' here for good while. Ever since Rufus saw you comin' up the path."

"Nice to see ye too, Will." Will was joined in the doorway by a small, old mouse. Skipper inclined his head politely at the new comer. "Hello, Mother Abbess. Nice to see yore still ship shape."

"Skipper!" The mouse leapt on the otter, belaying her old years. "You little rouge. I was wondering when you'd come back to see us. And here we have Alvin and Alfwine, no doubt." Alvin and Alfwine stopped fighting long enough to smile at the abbess. "But I don't know who you are, young 'un."

"I'm Bran, miss."

"Hello Bran! I'm Linda, mother abbess of Redwall." Linda hugged the otter, smiling happily. "But what are we doing, here, on the doorstep! Come on in. You'll all be hungry no doubt." Alvin and Alfwine stopped fighting and began to hang on the abbess' every word. "Come on, come on. You've arrived just in time for breakfast, which no doubt you meant to." The four otters followed the mouse into Redwall as Will closed the doors behind them. Linda walked happily through the grounds to the big sandstone abbey in the centre, talking half to herself.

"She's a little mad." Alvin told Bran.

"I heard that, Alvin! I prefer eccentric. Anyway, as I was saying, you'll want a bath, of course, get all the horrible travelling dust off yourselves, and clean clothes . . ."


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N**_**: **_I nicked the description of Martin's sword from one of the books (and I don't even have the books on me to check which one it is). I'll have a look when I go home for Christmas, but until then – those words belong to Brian Jacques, who is amazing and awesome, and I apologise for not being able to describe Martin's sword in my own words.

~ Ela

_Chapter Four_

Bran silently made his way down to the Great Hall. Most of the other beasts in Redwall were abed, and he didn't want to wake them, but he did want to see that sword he had seen earlier again . . .

It hung above the tapestry of the mouse surrounded by fleeing vermin, held to the wall by two brackets. It had appeared to be keener than a razor, it's double edge glittered and twinkled in a myriad of steely lights. Bran took it from the brackets, and looked at it in awe. Its tip was as pointed like a mountain peak, and the deadly blade had a three-quarter blood channel. It was a little short for Bran; it was probably made for a mouse, but it was perfectly balanced against the hilt, which was strapped in black leather, worn throughout the ages by countless paws, and finished with a ruby-red pommel stone and curving crosspiece where it joined the marvellous blade.

Unbeknownst to the otter, he took the sword in both paws, and held it straight, letting the point rise slightly to feel the heft of the weapon, as had its original owner. Suddenly Bran began sweeping it in circles, up and down and around. The steel blade whooshed eerily on its own wind, even as it had the first time. Bran swung round, and found himself facing Skipper.

"So you've found the blade of Martin, have ye?" Bran nodded dumbly, still holding the fantastic blade in one paw. Skipper sighed, and took it from Bran. "My grandfather wielded this weapon. Denya, he was called. Denya the warrior. See the mouse on the tapestry? He was the first to wield this, or at least that's wot Tymp told us. Martin saved Mossflower from some evil wildcats, makin' it a safe place to live in again. But that was ages past."

"It's a well made blade."

"Made from a fallin' star . . ." Skipper's eyes misted over slightly. "Listen, Bran, about yore mother . . ."

"She wasn't really my mother." Bran said, quickly. "And I didn't like her. Don't worry; I know she killed your sister, and I think your actions were justified." Bran lied. Skipper looked deep into his eyes, as if to look for the lie, but didn't appear to find one.

"Well that makes things a lot easier then. Let bygones be bygones?"

"I guess so." They shook hands.

"Welcome to Redwall, Bran."

* ~ *

Bran was woken early the next morning, by the dibbuns. He was _not_ happy, but was nice enough to the dibbuns to reinforce his new act as a Good Boy. The dibbuns led Bran down to the Great Hall, though he knew his way down perfectly well, and forced him to sit with them, as they did with all newcomers. It looked as if he was going to have to eat with them, until an otter maid about the same age as Alvin and Alfwine rescued him.

"Leave Bran alone, go on, Telkes, Bippon, Cedes. C'mon, Bran, Alvin, Alfwine and Skipper are sitting over here . . ." Bran sat up, shaking a couple of dibbuns off himself and followed here to where the others were sitting. "I'm Lisana." Bran remembered Alvin and Alfwine's argument the morning before and smiled, slightly.

"Hello, Bran!" Alvin called to him, seeming particularly happy. "Come an' sit with us. Was ye woken by the dibbuns too?"

"Yes. How do they have all that energy that early in the morning?"

"No one has a clue. Say good morning, Alfwine." Alfwine mumbled something. He looked very tired. "He's a little grouchy this morning . . . Don't have a clue why."

"Leave me alone to die . . ." Muttered Alfwine, his eyes half lidded.

Skipper was sitting next to Alfwine, and he laughed lightly and elbowed his friend in the ribs. "Cheer up, Alfwine, or I'll feed ye to the dibbuns."

Bran sat down beside him, looking up and down the tables, which were covered in good, Redwall food. "I've never seen so much food in all my life!" He exclaimed, truthful for once.

"Aye, only Redwall can produce the likes of this . . ." Linda standing up, ringing a small bell for quiet cut Skipper half way through.

"Silence for a moment, please." She called, as the last remains of talk died away. "Ashya, will you say grace." A pretty mouse maid, who was sitting next to the abbesses and started to sing, a little poem of grace. She sang the little poem well, and then sat back down.

"Dig in, Bran! Try some o' the farls, they're nice." Skipper smiled, reaching across the table.

"I prefer oatmeal, thank ye." Alfwine said, taking a bowl full.

"I wasn't talking to ye. An' I see you've perked up now there's food."

"Mmm. . . Well . . . who wouldn't?" Asked Alvin, his mouth full.

"Don't speak with yore mouth full." Lisana rebuked him. "Here Bran, try some of this cordial." Soon Bran was being offered food left, right and centre. He tried a little of everything he was offered, but soon was full.

"Are you trying to feed me 'till I explode?" He exclaimed as Skipper passed him another plate of something.

"Mmm, pretty much. Yore too skinny." Alvin laughed, poking Bran in the side.

"Oooh, don't. Ug . . . I've eaten too much . . ."

"Too much? You've hardly eaten anything! Look at Skipper, he's eaten twice as much as you, an' he's not even slowin'."

"Good for him."

"Even the dibbuns have eaten more then you."

"Mmm. . . Whatever. What normally happens in here after breakfast?"

"We-ell, those who have chores go an' do 'em, the others play with the dibbuns . . ."

"Where can I sign up for some chores?" Bran cut across.

Skipper laughed. "Don't ye worry too much Bran, we'll be there to protect ye."

"Shades, that's even worse." Laughing the friends finished, Bran laughing along with them. If he could get them to take their guard down, which he knew was still as high as ever . . .

* ~ *

Bran pulled the dibbun from his rudder, only to have another one attach itself. He hadn't a clue how Skipper, Alvin and Alfwine knew all their names, yet somehow they did. The little mud balls all looked pretty much the same to the newcomer, apart from every now and again when he saw a feature, which would distinguish, a dibbun as a certain creature. They had taken them down to the abbey pond, a young squirrel maid named Elsa, and a hedgehog called Saeros, who were on "dibbun duty."

"So, remind me again. Why are we taking them to the pond, to drown them?"

Saeros laughed at the otter. "Nay, we need to keep them busy for a little while, so that some of the pies made and left to cool may remain cooling."

"Huh, seems to me it would make life a whole lot more easier if we did . . ." Bran muttered, giving up trying to peel the latest dibbun from his rudder, and dragging it (the dibbun) along behind him instead. When they reached the pond Bran dunked the dibbun in the cold water, and then fished it out when it had let go.

"Right then, who wants to have a liddle ride 'round the pond?" Skipper roared above the noise of the dibbuns. Immediately they started to bounce of the balls of their foot paws, paws reached to the sky.

"Oh, oh, oh me!"

"No, me."

Ski-ipper! Me!"

"Skipper, here, me!"

"Please, me!"

"Me, me!"

"I think that only the quietest dibbuns deserve rides, Skipper." Elsa said. There was silence, as the dibbuns tried to look quiet and deserving. Skipper chose two of the dibbuns from the crowd, as did Alvin and Alfwine. Suddenly all the dibbuns were staring at Bran.

"Oh, okay. You, um, yeah, you." He pointed unceremoniously at a quiet looking dibbun at the back. "Climb on." He sighed.

Skipper smiled. Maybe he really _was_ okay.


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N**: In which the obligatory hoard is introduced. For the record, because I had a few questions about it last time, Fang'orn and Wil'eye are too stupid to realise that they picked a mute as their second in command. They just picked the first beast that came to paw. He communicates through his mate in sign language.

~ Ela

_Chapter five_

Fang'orn and Wil'eye were typical ferrets in every way but their sentiment for each other, yet somehow they had risen to the height of chieftains amongst the small gang of vermin that they had been brought up in. Under their rule the small gang had taken over another . . . and another, and another until they had a horde several thousands strong. They no longer had to fight to take on fighters; vermin flocked to their flag. Yet somehow the ferret brothers had not changed their attitudes at all.

"Oi, Fang'orn. Pass us that flagon o' wine."

"Get it yoreself, lazy bugger."

"Oi, you, um, whatever yore name is," Wil'eye shook a paw lazily at the fox who sat next to them. Both brothers had given up learning the names of their followers long ago. "Pass us the wine, will ye."

"Sure, yore mightiness." The fox passed the heavy flagon to the ferret.

"Who's mightines- oh. Yeah, whatever. Wil'eye. It gets confusing wid too many names, eh, Fang'orn?"

"Wouldn't know, I only ever 'ad the one." The younger brother chuckled a little at his own joke before taking another mouthful of the woodpigeon he was holding, a gift from their latest arrivals. "Anyways, were we be goin' to next, Wil'eye."

"I dunno. You choose were ye waner go."

"Well I dunno. I choose last time."

"An' ye made a good choice so ye can choose again."

"Aw, I can't be bothered. Oi, um what did ye say yore name were?" The fox looked up again from the arrows he was fletching.

"Cuthorn."

"Yeah, Cuthorn. Were do ye wanna go?"

Cuthorn shrugged. "I dunno . . . hows about gonna see if that Wallred place is real."

"Wallred? Redwall. Sure, that's real enough. Thousands of bones of the Redwall's enemies lie at its walls. Did that make any sense?"

"Sure it didn't; just like normal. Anyhows, that's just a tale fer the liddle 'uns. Redwall ain't got no warriors. I bet it ain't even real." Fang'orn rebuked his brother.

"Yeah it does." A young rat piped up. "I see'd it."

"Nah, ye didn't. No such place I tell ye. Go back to sleep."

"No, I did! Me an' me mate walked past it a long time ago! An' den he said to me, he sed: 'Dat be Redwall, mate. Ye don't ever wanna go dere; it's a bad place. Filled wid cold killers, an' many a good rat's been left to die out 'ere on dis 'ere plain. Bad place!' An' I believed 'im, 'e were a good mate." He looked reflective, and chewed on the bone that he'd stripped of meat before adding: "Afore 'e tried to kill me, o' course."

Fang'orn snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Nah, him be telling the truth. At least about the Redwall place. I been past there too." An old stoat called out.

"Mebee we should go see." Wil'eye contemplated.

"Mebee yore goin' soft. Even if dis place is real, what we gonna do?"

"Get der great Redwall sword!" The young rat's eyes glinted in the firelight. "Der great Redwall sword . . ."

"Aw, cummon. Ye don't believe that too!"

"Mebee ye should listen t'yore crew a liddle more, mate. I bet dis place is real, an' dere's no way ye could go an' take it."

"Yeah, if this place is real. Which it's not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is _too_."

"Is _not!_"

"Rite then if it isn't then you win the bet straight out."

"Great. What we be playin' for?"

"I dunno . . . My new cloak 'gainst yore new sword." Wil'eye had had his eye on Fan'orn's cloak ever since he got it.

"Sure. Ye better keep that sword in good condi . . . condi . . . good for me. 'Cos I don't want it all dented and scratched."

"Well, as ye ain't ne'er gonna get yore paws on it I dunno why yore so worried."

Fang'orn stuck his tongue out at Wil'eye before calling their second in command to them. "Oi, Whipslash, get down 'ere." The tall fox trotted neatly to the fire where the two ferrets were sprawled. "We move in the morning fer Redwall. Make sure everyone knows."

The mute fox nodded, then left.


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N**: Tarrega was based on Captain Jack Sparrow, who isn't mine, and belongs to Disney.

~ Ela

_Chapter six_

The tall otter struck a heroic pose, as he stood atop the rocks, watching the otter crew play in and around the sea. His white shirt caught in the wind and puffed up, making his slim body look much larger. The red bandana that he wore was decorated with all kinds of beads, and they caught in the wind too. His coat, hat, sword and daggers lay in a little pile at his feet.

Two younger otters, who were little more than kits, held their paws over their mouths to stop themselves from laughing and giving themselves away as they crept up behind him. One pushed the elder otter forwards into the water, while the other one ran off with his belongings.

A rather annoyed and wet otter dragged himself from the sea, the otters around him turning their back to him so he couldn't see them laughing. He managed to keep his head up until he got to the rock where he had been standing.

"All rite, you 'orrible lot. 'Oo stole m'effects?" Tarrega yelled at the crew. There were several short bursts of laughter from a couple of the younger otters. "Daenan, Thrag, if'n this were ye again, yore gonna regret it." The two otters in question turned to face him.

"Oi, don't blame us, matey. We've been a-huntin' shrimps all day, ain't we Thrag."

"Aye, it weren't us this time, Tarrega, mate, 'onest." Tarrega glared at them.

"'Oo was it, then?"

"We dunno, do we. We've been busy."

Tarrega opened his mouth to yell something at the younger otters, but a figure limping over the rocks in the distance distracted him.

"Drenna . . ." He said quietly, before leaping from the rocks and rushing to his friend. "Drenna, matey, are ye okay? Wot happened? Where's Thoron an' Kwesi?"

"Vermin . . . Movin' . . . Ambushed . . ." Tarrega supported Drenna, wincing as he looked over the older otters wounds. "Dead! Thoron an' Kwesi are dead."

"Are ye sure mate? Yore injured, cumon, we'll get Keman to look over ye."

"No, they're dead!" Drenna gripped Tarrega's paw hard. "Tarrega, there's vermin! Headin' to Redwall abbey . . ." Grim faced, Tarrega picked up Drenna and started back toward the camp.

"Where were they, mate? 'Ow many?"

"I couldn't get a proper count . . . Mor'en three thousand. Off to the north, up the beach a way."

"Rite." Tarrega handed Drenna to Keman. "Keman, get everybeast packed up. If'n' I'm not back at nitefall carry on widout me."

"Where to?"

"Redwall, o'course." Tarrega turned and started to run along the beach. He turned around and yelled back at the healer: "An' get Daenan an' Thrag to give me my effects back."

* ~ *

Tarrega was crouched in the sands by a large dune. His eyes were closed, and one paw was embedded in the sand. All his thoughts were focused on the vermin camp nearby, and what they were saying to each other. A quick count had come up with five thousand vermin, at least.

"Woah, that's an awful lot o'vermin." Thrag whispered, crouching next to Tarrega. The older otter was startled out of his trance, and he looked angrily round at Thrag and Daenan.

"What in the Darkness are ye doin' here? Why aren't ye packin' up with the others?"

"You told us t'bring ye yore effects, mate."

"So we did. Here y'are." Daenan tossed Tarrega the pile of belongings. Tarrega snatched them out of the air, and put them on, without even thinking about it.

"Well ye didn't need t'come an' give 'em to me. You should have waited for me t'come back."

"Nah, we felt like annoying ye some more. Are we goin' now?"

"Aye, mateys. An' ye'll be goin' ahead t'warn the abbey. Go on, now."

"What?" Daenan turned round to look at Tarrega.

"Ye heard me. Go on."

"But. . ."

"No buts, serves the pair of ye rite. Now git goin'! We don't have all day." Grumbling and moaning the otters set off, and after watching them for a little while Tarrega turned round and started to make his way back to the camp.

* ~ *

Deep in Mossflower wood a young hare struggled with the ropes that held him to an oak.

"Oh, I say, very funny, chaps. You wouldn't feel like untying me now, would you. Anytime now. Please?" As he was speaking Renit Charles Oldbuck the second loosed the ropes around him, which really were not that tight. "Um, chaps? You there?"

The tall, gangly hare suddenly ducked into a small bush, just as Thrag and Daenan came crashing into the clearing.

"Do ye actually have a clue were we are, mate?"

"Nope. You?"

"I was followin' ye!"

"Well don't fight about it, an' all that." Realising that the intruders were friends Renit bounded from the bush, landing in between the two otters, who jumped with shock. "Renit Charles Oldbuck the second, pleased t'meet you."

"Where'd ye come from, mate? An' please don't do that again, ye frightened me outta three season's worth o'growth."

"Just the bushes, donchaknow."

"Rite . . . Well, I'm Thrag, an' this is me matey Daenan."

"We're headin' t'Redwall Abbey. Ye wouldn't know where it is, would ye?"

"I can't help you there, chaps. Maybe we could find it together, as my dear old papa seems t'have given up on me."

Thrag wrinkled his snout. "Yore dad's givin up on ye?"

"Indeed, or so it would seem. He tried to leave me tied to a tree, wot!"

"Yore dad left ye tied t'a tree, mate?"

"That's wot I said. I say, are we going t'go to this Redwall place then, or stay here talking like a bunch of old housewives 'till we go grey?"

"Uh, t'Redwall I guess, though we're completely lost."

"Well, m'new found friends, mayhaps if we head that-a-way we'll find the path. From there we only need t'head south down it . . ."

* ~ *

Will was woken from his nap by somebeast knocking on the abbey gates. Sleepily he stood up, and ambled over.

"Be ye friend or foe?" He asked, jokingly.

"I would say we are friends, wouldn't you, chaps?" Will recognised the hare manner of speech and opened the gate.

"Hello. What brings three young 'uns such as yourselves here?"

"Oi, we're almost as old as ye are! Me an' Thrag's got a message from Tarrega to Skipper, if'n he's here, or miz Linda if'n he's not. An' Renit just tagged along for the ride."

"Actually, I am a very important visitor. My father sent me to . . . help at your very nice abbey, donchaknow. I also aided these impertinent chaps to find this splendiferous abbey. I heard the food was good here . . .?"

Will laughed. "I should have known better than to let a hare in. Linda'll have my head for this."

Skipper was walking round the abbey walls, and he recognised the two otters. Quietly he came round the gate, and then jumped on them. Renit fell back in surprise as the three friends wrestled on the floor.

"Thrag! Daenan! Ye little rouges . . . How are ye?!"

"Fine, thank 'ee, Skipper. Missed ye loads, but grown just as large as ye, as ye ain't been around t'pinch all me vittles."

"Does this mean that Tarrega an' the rest o'the crew are comin'?"

"Aye, an' we got a couple o'friends along fer the ride. There's five thousand vermin headin' yore way."

"Five thousand?" Asked Linda, who had noticed Will opening the gates and come to see whom it was.

"I saw 'em wid m'own eyes, miz."

"I say, chaps, you could have told me this!"

"Sorry, mate, but ye have t'admit, ye did ne'er ask 'bout it."

"I know, but . . ."

"Do not fight about it, master hare. Skipper, can I leave you in charge of the abbey's defences?"

"O'course, Linda."

"Good. Well then, I think I'll go and read some of the old abbey records. There might be some helpful information in there." Linda wandered off in her usual style, leaving the three otters, the hare and the hedgehog in the open gateway.

"Well, we could probably do with a little help. Mayhaps the Guosim will come. Daenan, Thrag . . ."

"Oh no ye don't! We've juts practically ran here from the shores, we're not goin' t'find the shrews an' all." Cut in Thrag.

Will put up a nervous paw. "I'll go, if you want me to, mister Skipper."

"Thank ye, Will. All ye need t'do is head down to the ford, and stick this in the mud on the path." Skipper handed the hedgehog a green stone. "Make sure it can be seen easily, though."

"Right, I'll go now."

"Good beast. An' if ye see Tarrega an' that crew o'mine, tell 'em to hurry up, won't ye?"

"Yes, Skipper."

"Thank ye. Of ye go now." Skipper watched the hedgehog run a little way down before he closed the door. "Rite then. Let's see what weapons we have in this place . . ."


	7. Chapter Seven

_Chapter seven_

Will jogged along the path, the green stone that the otter chieftain had given him in his hand. The darkness was growing around him, and he realised with a jolt that he was scared.

"Now, that's silly, Will, my friend. You know there is naught to be afraid of out here . . . Except for an army of vermin. But that doesn't matter. You'll be fine. Just keep going, keep running."

There was a rustle in the bushed behind the path. The hedgehog's head snapped round, and fear gave aid to his flight. Dashing down the path he heard another rustle. A branch moved. The last glimmers of sunlight reflected off something . . . A bird was disrupted from its nest.

"_No reason to worry,_

_Nothing to fear_

_Just keep a-dreamin'_

_Your mum is still here . . ._" Will muttered the lines of an abbey song to himself.

"_Never alone_

_Though there's no light,_

_I'll always be here_

_Right through the_ – arg!"

*~*

Skipper had taken his role seriously. Striding around the abbey like he owned the place he would point out things to the beasts around, give them jobs to do, or ask for things to be brought to him. Daenan and Thrag had elected themselves second in commands, and followed the otter chieftain around, repeating his orders in their loud booming voices. And in their turn they and a gaggle of dibbuns following them around, copying them, although the dibbuns tended to exaggerate a little bit.

"That's brilliant, May. Are there any more arrows d'ye think? Or anybeast who knows how to make 'em an' the materials fer some."

"Anybeast knows how t'make arrows?"

"Or are there any more, mates?"

"We needed more'n dese arrowses!"

"An' der matererials fer 'em, mateys!"

Skipper sighed. "Daenan, Thrag, mates? D'ye rekon ye c'n look after the dibbuns?"

Daenan and Thrag looked at the older otter with wide eyes. "An' after we ran all this way t'bring ye all that important information?"

"Well, I suppose if that's all we're worth fer. Cumon, Thrag, mate. Me'be the little 'uns will appreciate our comp'ny."

//_Two birds with one stone._ // Skipper thought. Alvin and Alfwine bounced up to him.

"We sorted out a wall guard, sah." Alvin said, pulling off a textbook salute, Alfwine doing the same next to him.

"An' Mister Renit said 'e'll arrange vittles an' such stuff."

"What?! You let that _creature_ near m'galley?"

"Sorry, sah."

"Oh shades . . . An' where's that Bran?"

"Here, Skipper." Said Bran, materialising from the shadows. "Is there anything you want me to do?"

Skipper thought about this, and realised that he would need all the help he could get to get the abbey ready for a vermin attack. "Go an' see if you c'n chivvy that hare from the kitchens, would ye, mate?"

"Already gone." Bran reassured Skipper.

*~*

Will placed a paw n his chest, feeling the speed of his heart. "Oh, mister Tarrega, you took four or five seasons off my life, and no mistake."

Tarrega smiled from where he had jumped from the bushes right in front of the hedgehog. "M'apologies, Will. What are ye doin' so far from ye berth?"

"Will held out his paw to show the otter the stone in it. "Skipper said I was to put this by the ford. It's to -"

"Skipper's sent out fer the Shrews? Well . . . if'n he thinks that's what he needs t'do . . . Give it t'Lasker. 'E'll take it the rest o'the way fer ye."

Lasker, a young, but strong looking otter came forward and took the stone from the hedgehog.

"Good luck." Will muttered.

"Thanks, mate." Lasker replied, before sprinting off.

"Now, Will, we're off t'Redwall. Cumin'?"

"Of course."

*~*

"Skipper! Skipper! The otters are here!"

"Finally . . ." Skipper muttered to himself as he ran from the kitchens to the gate. Tarrega saw him coming and smiled.

"Hello, mate. Had a fun break?"

"Great. Y'know, killed a dark one, 'elped sort out this abbey fer war, that kinda thing. How's m'crew?"

"Good, good. Apart from Thrag and Daenan, they've grown inter right rascals, an' if they get on m'nerves again. . ."

"We heard that!" Exclaimed Thrag as he and his friend appeared behind Skipper.

"Took yer time gettin' here, Tarr. Stop fer lunch, did ye?"

Tarrega merely glared at them.

"I told ye t'look after the dibbuns!"

"Ol' missus Nipfal chucked us out the job."

"Told us we were just encouragin' 'em."

"I wonder why?" Tarrega said sarcastically. "Knowin' you two ye were tellin' 'em all kindsa tales t'wind 'em up."

Daenan and Thrag stuck their tongues out at him.

"Not know, Tarr. Cumon, mate, I need sumbeast else who knows wat they're doin'."

"Where's miz Linda?"

"Lookin' up past battles in the gatehouse. She should be ship shape in there, as long as we get her out afore the vermin arrive."

*~*

Lasker was beginning to get nervous. All his instincts told him it was much too quiet. Not even birdsong could be heard. There was nothing above the water of the stream. Gently he pressed the green stone into the mud at the ford, and then turned around. He stood quietly for a while and then sped off, a sound that he had been dreading hearing giving wings to his flight.

The sound of marching paws.

*~*

For all the otherwise messiness of the vermin hoard they managed to march in good order. Fang'orn and Wil'eye marched in front, with their captains behind them, and all the other vermin behind them. As they went the hoard slashed at anything, which came near enough to them. A small rat popped out of the underbrush next to Fang'orn.

"Dere's a otter, down the path a-ways, sir." He said, nervously. "It could be, well it could be sommat t'do wid the ones we slayed the other day."

"Kill it." Wil'eye and Fang'orn said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed, the cold sound sending shivers down the spine of a squirrel that sat in the branches of a tree above the army. Silently she moved from her perch, not even shaking the branches of the tree.

*~*

Tarrega was the first to see the hoard come down the path. He noticed the dust cloud long before the army was actually visible. Shielding his eyes from the setting sun he watched as they came closer, waiting for Skipper to come. Tarrega didn't even turn when he heard Skipper next to him.

"They're cumin'." He said, quietly.

"Yeah, Alvin told me." Skipper glared at the approaching army. "About half an hour, I'd say, 'till they get here."

"Well, we're 'bout as ready as we'll ever be, mate."

"True. I guess we'd better get everybeast fit to wield a sword on the walls, then."

"Wait! There's somebeast at the gate." Bran said, craning over the walls to look at the small figure. "A squirrel."

Skipper went to stand next to the younger otter, and looked down too. "Let her in, Will." He called, before making his way down to the gate.

The squirrel nodded her head at Skipper as he came down the stairs.

"'Ello, Arami. I wondered if we'd be seein' ye anytime 'round now, my ol' matey."

Arami wrinkled her snout. "I wouldn't really be calling me old, not compared t'you anyway. Watchcha, Tarr. I 'posse you know 'bout the great big vermin hoard coming up the path."

"Aye. All too well."

Arami tried to smile and failed. "They killed Lasker."

Skipper took a deep breath, trying to ignore the bitterness that formed from that sentence. "Was he . . . was he on the way back from the ford?"

"Yes."

"'Opefully his death won't be in vain." Tarrega said, quietly.

"I would have brought him back with me, only . . ."

Skipper embraced the squirrel. "Don't worry, Ar, ye did wat ye needed to."


	8. Chapter Eight

**A/N**: Arami paraphrases Legolas during this... I would like to say that it was unintentional, but knowing me it wasn't. The films of Lord of the Rings belong to New Line (and the lines were written by either Philippa Boyens, Fran Walsh or Peter Jackson, all of whom are gods in the eyes of fangirls), and the books are Tolkien's, whose boots I am not fit to lick.

~ Ela

_Chapter Eight_

"I believe, m'dearest brother, that _you_ owe me a cloak." Wil'eye smiled wickedly at his brother.

Fang'orn snorted. "First o'all, I'm yer _only_ broth'r. An' secondly, ye have ter get the sword first."

"Wot? We ne'er said that?"

It was Fang'orn's turn to grin, and he did so, showing a set of rotted fangs. "'Oo said we was to play fair?"

"Why yer liddle . . ." Wil'eye hit his elder brother playfully. "Yer ol' mum would be so proud o'ye if'n she could see yer now."

"Only problem wid that is . . ."

"We killed her!"

"Har har har!" The laughter carried up to Skipper, who was standing on the wall top.

"What are they doing, Skipper?" Asked Linda, popping up in her usual fashion next to the otter.

"Waiting, miz. Ye should get back t'the abbey. 'Tis too dangerous fer ye out here."

"It's my _duty_, friend."

"Aye, well it will do the abbey no good if yer dead." Skipper winced. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean it like that . . ."

"I know you only mean well. I shall go when any fighting starts, you have my word."

Tarrega stood next to Skipper, watching the vermin intently. "I think them two are in charge, Skip." He said, pointing out Wil'eye and Fang'orn. "Though I'm not sure 'ow they work togeth'r. In my 'cperiance vermins can't stand competition to rulin'."

"I've heard about them, and lookin' at 'em now, I think it's true that they're kin." Arami said softly.

"Possibly, matey." Wil'eye and Fang'orn started to walk towards the abbey. "Looks like ye were rite 'bout 'em bein' in charge, any'ow." Skipper stood up so he was easily visible, and called out in a loud voice. "Ahoy there, vermin. Wot do ye an' yer crew want o'us?"

"Are ye in charge, otter?"

Linda stood up before Skipper could stop her. "Nay, I am. If it is food or shelter you wish to have, friends, then we will offer what we can give you."

"Nah, we want the . . ." Fang'orn turned to Wil'eye. "Wot were it that the sword were called?" He asked quietly.

"Oh, uh, the great sword o' Redwall or sommat."

"We want the sword o' Redwall! An' if ye won't give it to us, then I'm afraid we'll have ter be mean, an' take it from yer."

"There is no "sword of Redwall". We cannot give you what we do not have." Said Linda, crinkling her nose in puzzlement.

"Yeah, wotever, mousy. Just 'and it over, nice like, an' then there'll be no killin', see?"

A young stoat who had been elected by the rest of the hoard tugged at the back of Wil'eye's cloak, gently, half hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Wot?" Wil'eye snapped, turning round.

"Uh, um, shouldn't we take the abbey, an' all? I mean we have 'em at out mercy an' all that. . ." The stoat faded out at Wil'eye's face. "Weren't my idea." He said quickly, before ducking back into the crowd.

Wil'eye turned back to Redwall. "Yer have till the morro' to give us ther sword. An' if not then. . ." Wil'eye left the threat veiled, and he and his brother turned to the hoard. "Back outa range till mornin'. Wots the point o' sittin' out here in the range o' weapons when we can sit cosily a liddle way away an' watch 'em?"

Skipper and Linda ducked back down.

"The sword of Redwall? What can they mean?" Linda asked.

"I think they mean Martin's sword, miss." Arami said, quietly.

"Aye, that's wot I were thinking." Alfwine agreed.

"An' me." Alvin said, leaning across his brother's back.

"But that don't tell us wot were goin' ter do." Skipper pointed out.

"I cannot make this decision by myself, but I would say that we should not give the sword to any vermin." Linda said, firmly. "We must put this matter to the abbey elders. And you of course, Skipper, Alvin and Alfwine. And you, miss Arami, if you would honour us with your presence and knowledge."

"It would have to be quick." Bran said. "I have never warred with vermin before, but I do not think that they often stick to what they have said. I think that hoard wish for a greater prize. They will try to take the abbey if they can convince their leaders."

Skipper looked at Bran, worriedly. He had forgotten about the dark furred otter. "I 'ope not."

Bran shrugged. "Sorry. It's what I think from what I can see."

"Come on then." Linda encouraged them. "Down to Cavern Hole, quickly."

*~*

The elders of the abbey had been sitting in their chairs, waiting for Linda to return with news. She quickly told them of the situation. When she informed them of the ferrets' requests there was a chorus of shouts.

"Be quiet please! Skipper, will you tell them your view."

"Well, it ain't much, but I think that wot Bran said, that they'll try an' take the abbey no matter wot we do, is rite. We thought that they meant Martin's sword, but wot if they don't? Wot if we don't have wot they want? I think we'd just be better hangin' on till the shrews arrive."

"If they arrive." Tarrega muttered. Skipper glared at him.

"Normally some shrew passes that ford at least once a week, so we wouldn't have to last that long, I 'ope. An', o'course, ye have us otters."

Nipfal, the abbey healer, and unofficial "dibbun-looker-afterer", stood up. "I think I stand for all of us when I say that we should not let them have Martin's Sword."

Several cheers proved that she was right about the others' views.

"They can have it over our dead bodies, or not at all!" Tymp said, standing from his chair.

Bran bit back a rude reply, from where he stood behind Skipper. He had invited himself to the meeting.

"I would be careful what you say, my friend." Arami warned the old recorder quietly.

Ropple, the youngest redwaller at the meeting glared at the squirrel. "Who asked you? And who are you anyway?"

Arami sighed. She had to face this from at least one young redwaller each time she visited the abbey. "I am Arami, friend of Skipper. A traveller." She sighed, and addressed the group. "I have heard of these vermin. They are lead by the ferrets Wil'eye and Fang'orn, who are brothers. Ten thousand vermin they have behind them now, but every day more will come. Vermin flock to Wil'eye and Fang'orn's banner like flies to honey." She sighed. "Unless the shrews come to your aid you cannot win this war."

"I am sure we can protect ourselves, miss." Tymp said, proudly.

"I did not say I would not help."

"Quite, quite." Linda said, breaking up the argument before it formed. "But that is not what we are here to decide. Are we to give the vermin Martin's sword?"

The answer was a unanimous "no", and the fighters left for the wall to think of a plan.

"Why did you say that to 'em, Ara?" Asked Skipper as they walked.

Arami shrugged. "It is true. Three hundred against ten thousand? We cannot win this, even with the shrews. We are all going to die."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"I say we cut off the head of the snake." Bran said. "Kill their leaders."

"It's too 'ard to do that. They'll be stuck in the middle, if I know vermin." Tarrega said.

Skipper contemplated. "Actually, it may work. We'd have ter kill off some o' their crew first, o'course, an' cause a distraction. Mebe if, when the shrews come. . ." An idea began to form in the otters mind. "Aye. When the shrews arrive some o' us 'cperianced fighters, that's me, Ara, Tarr, Al an' Al -"

"And me." Bran cut in. He adjusted the dirk that Skipper had given back to him earlier on that day. "I can fight."

"All rite then, ye too. If we can split up, and work our way inwards quiet as possible, mebe . . ."

"That would be suicide!" Arami exclaimed.

"Not if we're ready as soon as the shrews come." Tarr contemplated. "O'course, they probably won't come."

"We agree with Skip." Alvin said, for himself and Alfwine.

"Aye, we're quite 'appy t'give it a try."

"I'll have a go." Bran agreed.

"All right, all right! But I say we should send someone out through one of the gates tonight to watch the paths. If they can tell the shrews to come at night, and bear torches or something, then that will give us a better chance."

Skipper nodded. "Aye. We'll send Lask-" Skipper stopped to late. "We'll send Jember."

"Send someone else too. As a back up." Bran suggested.

"Vosa'll go with 'im."

"Right, first meeting of the Suicide Squad over, lets go and see how many of these beasts can actually fight. Saving your crew, of course, Skip." Arami cut in.

"Suicide Squad?"

"Only you'd think o'sommat like that, Ara."

"Oh shut, Als." Arami said, fondly.


	9. Chapter Nine

_Chapter Nine_

Arami chewed absent-mindedly on a stick, contemplating the battle ahead. She had been in a few fights before, as several scars proved, but never one so large. She didn't notice Skipper until he sat down next to her.

"Acorn for your thoughts." He said, quietly.

Arami shrugged. "Just wondering what's going to happen to us."

Skipper nodded, and looked out to where the vermin army sat, just out of bow range.

Arami continued to stare out at Mossflower. "I mean; can we _really_ win this war?" She continued quietly. "And what happens when you die?"

"Well, I think I can answer that one. You go beyond the Dark Gates into the Dark Forest."

"I know everyone says that but . . ." Arami halted, and instinctively grabbed her bow with her left paw. "It's sunrise."

*~*

Wil'eye swiped at his brother lazily. "Get lost, Fang. 'S too early."

Fang'orn poured a jug half full of grog over Wil'eye, who sat up with a start. "Cummon, lazy, we dun wanna be late fer our _meetin'_ do we?"

"Wot meetin'?"

Fang'orn sighed. "Wid der _abbey_ youse idiot!"

Wil'eye shook a paw at Fang'orn. "Aw, wotev'r. Wake me up when we win."

"Yore the one that wonts m'cloak. Suits me fine if'n we just go back."

"Wot!" Wil'eye jumped up again. "An' let beasts say we ran 'way from a battle? Nora chance."

Fang'orn rolled his eyes. "Just get ready t'fight, yer dimwit."

Wil'eye grabbed his belt and strapping it on over the clothes he'd slept in, he was ready. Rearranging his sword he stalked away from the fire where he had been lying. "Stup'd brothers, an' their stup'd 'deas." He muttered. "Ne'er goin' wi' him 'gain."

"Whipslash!" Fang'orn yelled. Whipslash appeared by Fang'orn. "Get ever'beast ready ter fight."

Whipslash waited for Fang'orn to trot off after his brother before signing to his mate who sat by the fire. [_Can you send the message round?_]

"Of course." She said, rising.

*~*

As the vermin approached Redwall's gates again the aptly named "Suicide Squad" stood up to greet them.

"Well?"

"Well wot, vermin?" Skipper smiled, nonchalantly.

"Sword, or death. Yore choice."

"We'll ne'er give the sword to you and your _scum_." Arami growled.

"Fine, fine, yore funeral." Wil'eye and Fang'orn turned back, and Arami quickly drew the string of her bow back to her chin. She was aiming when a paw hit her on the side of the head, so that her arrow went wild, hitting a hoard beast in the chest. There was an unpleasant moment of silence before, as one beast, the vermin charged on the walls.

Which, while cinematic, was completely pointless. Arami signalled for the archers to draw back, and then, as the wave of vermin hit the great sandstone walls, fire a round of arrows into the ranks of the approaching vermin. As the first rank of archers reloaded the second rank shot, and as the second rank reloaded the first rank shot, creating a never ceasing rain of arrows to hail upon the hoard.

A little way further down the walls Alvin and Alfwine had arranged several ranks of sling shooters, who were doing the same, with just about as much deadly accuracy, and Skipper was in charge of the spears and javelins.

*~*

Wil'eye and Fang'orn sighed at the same time before setting about their hoard, forcing them into organised ranks, kicking the archers and slingers to the back. Wil'eye left Fang'orn to organise the beasts attacking the wall, and stalked along the lines of archers, shouting abuse when he caught them slacking. He jumped slightly when Fang'orn reappeared by his side.

"Shades, Fang . . ."

"Dis is poin'less, Eye. We need ta pull 'em back."

"Wot? But dat's like a retreat!"

"I know! But dere just gettin' killed, an' it ain't gettin' us nowheres."

*~*

Bran appeared next to Alvin on the wall. "They're retreating!" Alfwine exclaimed, signalling to the slingers to hold fire.

"I'll go and tell Skipper then, shall I?" The otter mumbled to himself, ducking back down and making his way along the wall.

"Skipper? Skipper?"

"'M 'ere, mate."

"They're retreating! What do we do?"

"Tell everybeast to . . . to 'old their fire. Let 'em go."

Bran nodded. Soon the message had passed across the wall, and the defenders of Redwall began to stand down. Skipper picked up a wounded otter and began to make his way across to the main abbey building. Before he finished the trip a cheer started on the walls, and was taken up, until even the beasts in the abbey were cheering. A stream of Redwallers that had been unable to fight made their way out of the abbey.

"Stop it. Stop it!" Someone cried above the noise. Skipper turned to stare at them with the rest of the beasts around him. Alvin and Alfwine were standing on the walls.

"Stop it! Why're ye cheerin'? They ain't gone forever, mates, only for now. They'll be back, ye kin bet m'rudder on it. An' 'ow many beast 'ave died today? 'Ow many will 'afore the end? So ye kin stop yer cheerin', and 'elp the wounded." Alfwine yelled at the assembled abbey beasts, who starred for a moment longer before starting to do as he said.

Tarrega went to the twins. "Well, that was an inspired speech, mates. Would 'ave speared on hundreds, that."

"Aw, shut up, Tarr." Alvin said, swiping at Tarrega.

"Ye couldn't do better."

Tarrega grinned, toothily. "Wanna bet?"

"Not really, no."

Tarrega, Alvin and Alfwine turned to face Arami and Skipper. Arami embraced the three of them before they had time to react.

"Arami, get off!" Alvin yelled, as he tried to wiggle out of her grasp.

"No. It's my job to be the over protective mother figure, as I'm the only girl in the SS." She laughed, before kissing him of the top of the head, and releasing him.

"Well, that went better than expected." Bran said, as he sauntered over to them and sat down.

"Ye kin say that again, matey." Tarrega smiled.

"Does anybeast know 'ow many are injured?" Skipper asked.

"Sorry, Skip." Tarrega answered.

Arami grimaced. "About three or four archers."

"Ondel." Alvin said.

"I think one or two Redwallers got hit." Bran offered.

Skipper nodded. "An' has anybeast been left on watch?" He looked at the other's faces. "Thought not."

"I'll go an' . . . and sort it out." Arami said, yawning in the middle of the sentence. "I'll get some food sent up too, shall I?"

In the rush of battle, the slap of a hand that ruined Arami's shot had been completely forgotten, except for my one beast. Bran smiled smugly to himself, as he set about checking the wounded, keeping up his Good Boy act.

*~*

In the vermin camp things were not going half as well. More than a score had died, and another thirty needed medical attention. Wil'eye paced up and down.

"I can' believe we jus' did that."

"Did wot?"

"Retreated, yer plank! Wot are we gonna _do_?"

"Well, first o'all, _yer_ gonna calm down. Them beasts won a battle alrigh', but they sure ain't won the war. Sec'ndly, we're gonna send some beasts inter the woods, an' they're gonna chop down a couple o' trees, where they can't be seen."

"Wots the point o'that?"

"Battering ram. An' other stuff. . ."

"Oh, all right then. . . But it were _yer_ idea, 'right?"

"Yeah, wote'er."


	10. Chapter Ten

_Chapter ten_

Bran watched the sun rise from his watch position on the wall tops. Next to him Arami dozed. Bran yawned and stretched his footpaws out, sliding his lithe body across the stone until he was flat on his back, before sitting up again.

"Arami?" he asked, to see if she was awake.

"Yeah?" came the sleep-laden reply.

"Oh, don't worry. I just wondered if you were awake."

"Aye, I am."

"All right."

Silence took over again, and Bran stood up to stretch better. Looking out over the woodlands he ducked, and just in time, as an arrow flew over his head.

"Attack!" The young otter whispered urgently, shaking Arami. "Arami, wake up, the vermin are back."

The squirrel sat up straight, and peered over the wall tops before turning back to Bran. "Stay here. I'll go and get help from the abbey." Arami scrambled to the steps, crouched low, and vanished beyond Bran's view.

Bran's thoughts turned back to the vermin army. Cautiously he peered over the wall tops to look at them again. Below him he watched as the hoard dragged several large tree trunks towards the walls.

Skipper crouched beside Bran, quietly. He too had seen the vermin. "Wot d'ye think they're up to, mate?"

"Not sure. They've got ten or more tree trunks down there, but if they were going to be used as battering rams they'd only have one."

"True, mebe-" Skippers speech was interrupted by a cry from the other side of the wall.

"Attack! We're under a-" The cry was silenced abruptly. Skipper and Bran looked at each other.

"Go." Bran urged. "I'll keep an eye on this lot 'til Arami comes."

Skipper needed no second urging. The otter chieftain rushed round the battlements, and arrived where a vermin arrow had felled Lasui, a young otter. Skipper knelt by Imloth, Lasui's watch partner, and felt for a pulse.

"He's alive." Skipper reassured Imloth after a couple of seconds. "He's lucky. By the look o' it yon arrow's gone through his shoulder. He needs t'get t'the healer, though, 'n' quick." Lifting his head to look over the battlements, Skipper hoisted the wounded otter onto his shoulders. "Wait 'ere, mate. Arami should get some re-enforcements up soon."

Imloth nodded grimly, and turned back to watch over the battlements again, resting his paw on the hilt of his short-sword.

Skipper carefully carried Lasui into the main abbey building, being careful not to aggravate his wound further. Leaving him with Nipfal, Skipper joined his otter warriors who were streaming out of the abbey; acting on Arami's alert.

Meanwhile Bran watched lazily from above the gates. He was certain now what at least one of the trunks was to be used for – a battering ram, _and_ a diversion, and was pretty sure what the others would be used for too. The dark furred otter kept his right paw on the leather handle of his bow the whole time, waiting for the order to fire back, waiting for the opportunity to let out some of his frustration at being stuck in such a honourable abbey. Finally Arami reappeared, panting slightly.

"Bows at the ready, mate!"

"Finally." Bran muttered, as he notched an arrow and brought the string to his cheek. "Any particular target?"

"Skip says we need t'get the battering ram down if we can, but if we can't the moles have something for it." Arami checked back along the wall to get that all the projectiles were ready. "FIRE!" She yelled, and a volley of stones, javelins and arrows hurtled towards the approaching vermin army.

*~*

Down below Wil'eye laughed. "We're too far out for 'em yet. When are we gonna go an' knock on 'em gates?"

"Later. Later."

"When?" Wil'eye moaned.

"When the idjits think we're not gonna do naught more t'day. Ye'll wait 'ere until they stop firin', and _then_ ye'll go in."

"Wot 'bout you?"

"I'm goin' round the back t'sort out the others."

*~*

Skipper bounded up beside Arami. "Right, I'll take over 'ere. I think they need yer help on t'other side, though."

Arami sighed. "An' I was having so much fun here." She gave Skipper a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you later, and try not to get hurt."

Skipper batted her away, and reached for a javelin. "Same t'ye, but go!" The otter hurled the javelin as far as he could, but the weapon missed the nearest vermin by about ten feet. "Damn." He muttered. "Hold fire!" He called to the creatures along the wall top who were still firing, despite the fact that none of their projectiles were getting anywhere near the vermin. "Hold fire!" He repeated, holding one paw in the air. Slowly the message was relayed all round the walls.

"What's going on?" Bran asked, slowly releasing the tension on the string of his bow.

"Can't ye see they're out of range, mate? We're wasting shafts."

"Ah, right." Bran replied, slotting the arrow that he had had on his string back into his quiver. "Well, what next then?"

"We sit tight, and we wait."

*~*

"Keep yore heads _down_!" Arami whispered furiously at the beasts on her side of the wall top. "Shades, what part of 'I don't want them to see you' do you not understand."

Silently they sat and waited until . . .

There was a quiet clatter, the sound of wood on stone. Arami chuckled wildly, and positioned herself where she knew the impromptu vermin ladder had fallen against the walls. All along the wall beasts moved into position, waiting until vermin heads peeked over the ramparts.

Arami grinned at a young rat who had the misfortune to be at the top of his tree trunk. "'Ello." She said, pushing the trunk back from the walls. The rat screeched, and tried to jump onto the wall tops, but a quick thrust of Arami's short sword silenced him. She watched as other tree trunks fell all along the wall, and smiled in a satisfied way. Picking up her bow, and selecting one of her arrows, which had an oil soaked rag wrapped round it, she lit the rag, before firing at one of the trunks. It took a few arrows for the tree to catch, but the summer had been a long, dry one, and soon there was a large fire burning below her. As other trees fell victim to the fire, the vermin ran, screaming and yelling, from their positions, making easy targets for Arami and her archers. Soon the ground was cleared, and Arami called to some abbey beasts who had been waiting by the wall gate below.

"Now, mates, and be quick!"

Armed with water, old blankets and soil, they ran outside to put out the fires before they spread to the woodland. A small guard of otter warriors went with them, and Arami and her archers watched from the wall tops, her bow at the ready, to make sure that they were not disturbed. Soon the fires were safely out, and everybeast was back inside the abbey walls.

"Good work." Arami nodded, before turning to Imloth. "Keep an eye on them. They shouldn't try from this side again today, but it's better to be safe then sorry." She said, skipping off back to where Skipper was.

*~*

Meanwhile, the vermin on the other side of the abbey had grown bored of watching and waiting. Wil'eye had allowed the score of hoard beasts who had been specially picked for their strength to pick up the massive old oak trunk and make their way to the abbey gates. With them went a small group to help protect them with their shields, and take places if beasts were killed. Skipper watched almost in disinterest until he judged them to be back into range.

"Everybeast, get ready! Fire!" A volley of javelins, arrows and slip stones flew at the group, slaying one, but most of the missiles missed or bounced off shields harmlessly.

Skipper held up a paw for the others to wait. The battering ram came closer and closer, until, Skipper released his paw again, and another volley was sent at the vermin. This time, javelins and arrows had been wrapped in oil rags and set fire to, but the trunk, despite having several burning in it, did not set fire.

"C'mon, Foremole." Skipper said, indicating to the young mole leader, who was sitting with his moles on the wall steps. Foremole made his way carefully up the steps, followed by his crew.

"Oi doubt if'n there'll be any oil in 'ee abbey after today, zur Skipper." He said, as the moles positioned a cauldron of oil on the ramparts.

"Ah, there's plenty, I checked meself, mates, so ye've no reason t'worry." Skipper reassured him. "But kin ye hurry up? Them vermin ain't gonna wait round all day."

"I'll say." Arami agreed, appearing next to the otter. "'Specially when their mates get back."

"Arami! I though you were going t'wait as long as possible?"

"An' I did, so don't blame me. 'Snot my fault if the vermin decided they couldn't wait any longer."

While the pair chatted, the moles tipped the oil over the huge tree trunk that the vermin had intended to use as battering ram. It soon caught light on the arrows that still burnt in the trunk, and the vermin dropped it, yelling and screaming. Ten of the fore most beasts had no time to run before the oil that soaked them caught light.

Skipper listened to the screams. "Well, I 'spect that be it for t'day."

**A/N**: Will never, ever try to edit after 9PM again. Brain dead. Sorry for any major mistakes, I fell back on just checking paragraphs etc. towards the end, so may have to redo again later. None the less, will try and update with a new (shock!horror!) chapter before Christmas. Hope you enjoy anyway.

~ Ela.


End file.
